Nachtalia
by Of Ebon Hold
Summary: The tale of a Blood Elf Paladin, resurrected by the Scourge as a Death Knight, as she seeks to redeem herself, her family name, and above all, to survive in a hostile new world. Constructive criticism desperately sought.
1. A Hero Falls

A hero. A champion of the Light. A beacon of hope to all who met her.

That's what she had been, once. No more.

That former glory was long gone, almost forgotten. Recalling it was painful. It reminded her of how far she had fallen – from one of the Light's elite servants, to a harbinger of death, disease, and darkness. A servant of the Lich King.

It had been almost a year to the day since the battle at Light's Hope Chapel, where Arthas had revealed to her and her fellow Death Knights that they were merely pawns, expendable fodder in the campaign to flush Tirion Fordring out of hiding. Released from the Lich King's domination, they had been mercifully spared by Fordring's forces. With his blessing, she and her fellows had been accepted back into the fold – a valuable force, with knowledge of the Scourge's inner workings.

But she knew the truth. The Knights of the Ebon Blade were not accepted, merely tolerated – "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", as they said. And she knew that, if they really did manage to defeat Arthas – manage to do the impossible, forge the Alliance and Horde into a single, cohesive force, and storm Icecrown, putting an end to the Lich King at last – the Knights' sanctioned status would come to an end. They would be viewed as leftovers, former Scourge forces that were no longer needed – and, as Azeroth was cleansed of the taint of the Undead, they would be hunted down, one by one, and put out of their misery. The living would go on with their lives, now able to exist in a world free of the Scourge, while those who had sacrificed the most for Azeroth's freedom would lie forgotten in unmarked graves.

Nachtalia's eyes refocused, as she emerged from her thoughts. Looking out over the tainted expanses of Zul'Drak, she thought about how the trolls had turned upon their own gods in an effort to fight back against the Scourge. The foolish, savage creatures, unable to understand the Scourge's subtleties, could do nothing but lash out as their lands grew smaller and smaller, their numbers dwindling as they retreated further and further up and into the gigantic ziggurat. They would soon find themselves with nowhere left to go, an army of the undead in front of them, tall cliffs and a punishing ocean behind. The Drakkari were doomed.

Sighing, she absentmindedly rubbed Scourgebane's head. Crafted for her specifically by one of the Kirin Tor's finest weaponsmiths, inscribed with dark runes of power in the Knights' renegade necropolis of Acherus, the massive mace had served her well since she had acquired it. Rams' skulls were carved into the head, and it pulsed a faint, blue-white light from its sanctified titansteel surface.

"You're thinking about Icecrown again, aren't you." Asked Norraku, causing Nachtalia to turn to look at him. "You're thinking about what will happen to you and the rest of the Knights, once Arthas falls."

Nachtalia eyed the Netherdrake. Not quite of this world, Norraku was constantly flickering different colors, his semitransparent body emphasizing the unnatural origins of his Flight. Nachtalia had rescued him from a group of Dragonmaw slavers in Shadowmoon Valley, during her six-month penitential crusade in the shattered remains of the planet Draenor. Indebted to her, the young Netherdrake had chosen to become her companion, helping her bring death to many Scourge from an unexpected quarter. He had helped her overcome innumerable foes, and in their time together he had come to recognize and understand even the tiniest changes in her demeanor.

After a moment formulating her reply, she responded to Norraku's question. "Yes, I am. The Forsaken may have a place of safety within the Horde, now that that scheming dreadlord is no longer a factor, but they've been free of Scourge influence for years, and the only time any of them turned on the Horde, it was a splinter-group of anarchist fanatics that wanted everything other than themselves dead – Thrall knew that the Royal Apothecary Society and Varimathras were behind the attempted coup in the Undercity, and Sylvanas and her people have been reaffirmed as loyal members of the Horde. But the Knights… We've been free of Arthas' control for barely a year, and it's no secret that there's a large minority of those within the Horde that would like nothing better than to see us hanging from Orgrimmar's gates."

Norraku shifted on his perch, stretching his wings. "Well, elf, I think you underestimate your allies. You and I, our paths are not so very different. We both hail from dark origins – the Scourge for you and the Knights, the Black Dragonflight for me and my kindred. Yet we Netherwing are eager allies of the Horde, and have been for almost two years now – even after Illidan's defeat, we remain allied with Thrall. I think you will find the Warchief ill-disposed to let those loyal to him come to any harm at the hands of his forces."

Nachtalia remained silent for a moment. Sliding Scourgebane into its loop on the back of her chestplate, she threw her leg over Norraku's back, settling herself into the saddle. As they took off, flying west to Dalaran, she responded quietly.

"I suppose time will tell."


	2. The Nexus War

"Dammit, people, is there not a one of you with a scrap of good news to bring me?!" Rhonin growled, slamming his fist down on the table. "Power fluctuations at the Nexus, Malygos hiding in the safety of his inaccessible lair, three break-outs in the Violet Hold in as many days, which we know were instigated by Blues – We are losing this war! We have the finest the Horde and Alliance have to offer, scouring this continent from top to bottom, killing members of the Blue Dragonflight wherever they're found, and it is still not enough! They're not the Scourge, they can't just swell their ranks with corpses – So where are all these damned dragons coming from?!"

He looked around the table fiercely, as if expecting an answer, but none was forthcoming. The Kirin Tor may have had hotheads among its ranks, but there were no fools – Those assembled at the table knew better than to provoke Rhonin when he was in one of his sour moods.

Rhonin was about to resume his tirade, when he became conscious of a sudden chill in the room. It brought with it mixed emotions – Regretful memories of an apprentice, long-since claimed by death, and the familiar discomfort of knowing that he was about to interact with that apprentice's only living relative – Although living was perhaps not the best term.

"Rhonin." Nachtalia said. It wasn't a loud utterance, but nevertheless her voice carried throughout the room. Forcing a smile, Rhonin turned to greet his visitor.

"Ah, Nachtalia, I'm glad to see that you've returned. You had been gone so long, I was beginning to worry that you might have fallen in combat at the Oculus. Were you successful in your hunt?"

In reply, the blood elf pulled the tip of what was clearly a gigantic horn from her pack, and dropped it on the table. "Eregos – Or what's left of him. My ghouls got the rest as a reward."

Rhonin refused to let his distaste show. "Well, one less Blue is always good news – especially one of Eregos' potency. But this couldn't have taken you a whole month to collect – where were you?"

Her face betraying nothing, Nachtalia responded to Rhonin's inquiry. "The Knights had a mission for me in Zul'Drak – the trolls were starting to harass our camps, and they specifically requested my aid in putting a stop to the raids."

Rhonin nodded thoughtfully. Nachtalia's unwavering loyalty to the Knights was no secret in Dalaran – Although the same could be said about most of the other mercenaries, adventurers and heroes that often passed through the city. With Northrend filled with the most heroic, well-known, and in some cases feared members of the Horde and Alliance, a stray comment could mean a missing limb for an unwitting bartender.

"Well, here's your payment for eliminating Eregos." He replied, tossing the elf a bag of gold pieces. She caught it deftly, and deposited it in her pack. Rhonin turned back to the mages standing around the table.

"I have need to speak to Nachtalia alone. You are all dismissed – but I still want answers as to where all these Blues are coming from. Understood?" His question was greeted with nods and murmurs of assent, as the mages shuffled out of his chamber.

Sighing, Rhonin turned back to his guest, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, but we've been having problems lately. The Blues just keep coming, and even our top scryers are stumped as to how they're replenishing their forces so quickly. But that's not what I want to talk to you about. I received a messenger from Alexstrasza three days ago – She's requested any help I can send, Death Knights in particular. Mentioned something about Galakrond – I don't have the faintest idea what she's talking about, but I recall you did some work for the Accord in Dragonblight a while back, and I think that you might be able to provide the aid she's asking for. Are you willing to do it? You know well those dragons reward mercenaries…"

Nachtalia contemplated the proposition. It couldn't hurt to at least hear the Lifebinder's offer out, and although she couldn't directly recall who or what Galakrond was, the name brought a surge of foreboding, a mean ball of unease in the pit of her stomach. And she had learned to trust her intuition on these things. Norraku wouldn't be happy that they were working with the Accord again – He hadn't liked it the first time, either. Being in the presence of such high-ranking members of four of the five primary flights made him nervous to no end – but he would just have to grin and bear it.

She looked Rhonin in the eye, his green irises staring back at her glowing blue orbs. "Yes, I'll do it. If Alexstrasza really needs Death Knights that she knows she can trust, then who am I to turn her down? I'll be at Wyrmrest Temple in a day's time."

As she turned to go, Rhonin called after her. "A day's time? Why so long?"

She didn't turn, but the coldness of her words did a better job of expressing her thoughts than her expression ever could.

"I'm going to pay my respects to Sen'Dralai."

And with that, she was gone.


	3. A Lonely Grave

The winds howled across the desolate land of Icecrown, snow whipping about across the glacier's thick ice. It was a barren place; too harsh for plant life to grow, and now that it held the seat of the Lich King's power, too dangerous a place to venture to for the vast majority of Azeroth's inhabitants. Yet, this was precisely the place where Nachtalia came to honor her brother's memory.

The snow flew frantically as Norakku landed on the edge of the glacier, in a small patch of ice shielded on three sides by protrusions of rock. Facing the sea, about twenty feet's length and ten feet's width, it was sheltered from the region's winds. At the rear of the enclosure was a small cenotaph, barely three feet tall.

Dismounting, Nachtalia strode over to the carved piece of ice, and knelt before it. It was a simple memorial – shaped like a rounded cone, jutting from the snow, it seemed almost a natural formation. Only its symmetry and the words carved into it gave it away. The inscription was simple.

"Sen'Dralai.

A brilliant mind.

A loving older brother.

Consumed by his own ambition.

May he finally be at peace."

Taking a chisel out of her pack, Nachtalia painstakingly recarved the inscription. Although she had been assured by the Sons of Hodir that the piece of everfrost would never melt, nor its inscription fade, the act in and of itself provided her with a reassurance that her brother would not be forgotten.

As she went about her work, the memories flared up. Try as she might, she couldn't suppress them, and she let out a gasp of pain as they overtook her. She and Sen as children, playing games with each other in Silvermoon. Sen, as an adolescent, storming out of their parents' home to join the Draenor expedition, his budding arcane abilities already too great to be constrained by a life in the city. The rumors, just as she was coming of age, that Sen'Dralai had succumbed to the temptations of fel magic in the Outlands – that he had become a warlock. And the news, nothing but whispers and rumors at first, but rapidly becoming fact, that when Kael'thas' treachery had been revealed, and the majority of the Draenor expedition had fled, returning through the Dark Portal to Azeroth, Sel'Dralai had been one of the few to stay behind in Draenor's shattered remnants, gorging himself on the fel energy of the demons native to that ruined world. The news that he had become a Felblood.

Slain in a targeted strike by the Shattered Sun Offensive, his body had been disposed of in the fires of Shadowmoon Valley, by strangers who had never even known him. By the time his identity was known, there was nothing to recover.

Regaining control of herself, she tried to resume her air of cold calm. It was because of her brother's descent into the use of fel magic that Nachtalia had joined the Argent Dawn in the first place – risen through the ranks so quickly, so great was her passion to redeem her family's name. And while that was a decision that had ultimately served her poorly, she had been proud of her service to the Light as she carried it out, each undead slain bringing her family's name that much closer to redemption.

And then she had fallen. To a ghoul, of all things. It wasn't her fault – the thing had snuck up on her, and as she turned to face it, had detonated, sending diseased shards of bone deep into her body, rupturing many of her internal organs. One of the reasons that she had been raised into service as a Death Knight was the fact that her body had been remarkably sound – the dead didn't need beating hearts, or working lungs, or functional livers, after all. But she still bore the stitches that held those wounds closed.

Sighing, she stuck a hand into her pack, and pulled out a delicate white rose. Holding it up to her lips, she blew gently on it, coating it with a thin layer of ice. She laid it on the ground in front of the Cenotaph, and whispered, almost inaudibly,

"Grant me strength, brother."

Standing up, she walked back to where Norraku was somberly awaiting her, mounting up in the saddle. As they took off, Nachtalia couldn't help but will Norraku to fly faster. She had an Aspect to see.


	4. First Encounter

Shintal wiped the sweat from her brow, panting as she ascended the cliffs surrounding Vengeance Landing. The Hand of Vengeance had been too busy killing shipwreck victims to get to work erecting lifts to the top of the cliffs, so travelers were forced to use the steep switchbacks for now. Grunting and muttering curses under her breath, she finally reached the top of the cliffs, and dropped her pack next to a tree, which she fell against gratefully, sighing as she stroked Flikt's carapace.

Flikt was a small firefly that she had picked up as an egg during her time in Outland, from a merchant who had been selling cooking supplies, of all things. She had been happily surprised when, instead of yolk, the egg had contained a new companion. From then on, he was with her everywhere she went, from the top of the haunted tower of Karazhan to the Sunwell itself. As she stroked him, he emitted a chittering sound that she knew from experience indicated contentment.

As the troll surveyed the path ahead from the base of her tree, she couldn't help but feel relief to be gone from Draenor at last. The pain of the elements in that broken world had been overwhelming, a cacophony of pleas for help in her head that she couldn't answer. It felt good to be back in Azeroth – while the elements were under attack here as well, she was not bombarded by a flood of pain as she had been in the Outlands.

Picking herself up with her trusty walking stick, she continued on to New Agamand. The stick appeared unexceptional, merely a cylindrical piece of wood with a handgrip in the middle, but appearances could be deceiving. All she had to do was squeeze the handgrip in the right place, and the staff would split in two, a pair of wicked blades snapping out of the head and butt of the former "staff", leaving her wielding two cruel-looking axes. The wood was that of an ironbark tree, renowned for its toughness and durability, while the blades were composed of adamantite, and crafted to her exact specifications by the best smiths in Orgrimmar. She had designed the weapon herself – being an engineer had its perks.

However, martial prowess was not her only means of self-defense – as a shaman, she had a mastery of the elements unmatched by all but the Horde's most powerful and wise spirit walkers. Combined with her jungle troll heritage, Shintal was deeply attuned to the world. She could call upon the four elements at will – Earth, Water, Fire, and Air – and would be obeyed immediately. She used her abilities sparingly, though – the spirits should only be called upon in the most dire of circumstances.

Flikt couldn't help but flutter about along the trail ahead. Being native to Draenor, Azeroth was entirely novel to him, and the sights and smells of Northrend were unbelievably exotic. Shintal couldn't help but chuckle as he investigated an exposed cobalt vein. A smile appeared on her face, as the unmistakable skyline of Forsaken buildings came into sight from the north, signaling that New Agamand was just a few minutes' walk away.

Suddenly, Flikt emerged from the rocky hills to the south, chittering frantically as he alighted on Shintal's shoulder. She recognized immediately his agitation, but waited patiently on the path, facing the hilly landscape to the south as the sound of heavy footsteps drew closer. Finally, three figures emerged from behind a boulder at the side of the road – she recognized them immediately.

The Darkfallen, Prince Keleseth, had brought a contingent of them to New Agamand with him as bodyguards, when he had come to offer the Forsaken the chance to rejoin the Scourge. The offer, naturally, had been violently turned down, but the stature of these immense, superhuman warriors had been burned into Shintal's memory. She stood her ground, imperturbable as the Vrykul, noticing her, grinned at each other before looking back to her.

"'Ey, lookit what we got 'ere!"

"What's a li'l trollmaid like yourself doing out here all alone?"

"That's a nice staff you got there. Where'd you get it, troll?"

She stared back at them, her eyes glinting dangerously. "I am a simple traveler, merely passing through these lands. I have no quarrel with you."

The vrykuls' loud, booming laughter could be heard for miles around. "No quarrel with us, eh? I reckon King Ymiron'll want a word with you – maybe even pass you along to the Death God himself! No, you're coming with us, troll."

Her grip on the staff tightened, as her eyes began to glow under her hood. "Not on your life."

The Vrykul's grin grew wider. "Well then," Said the apparent leader of the group, "I guess we'll be bringing back yer corpse!"

Howling a battlecry, two of the three charged forward, as Shintal squeezed the handgrip of the staff, causing the twin axe blades to appear. Grabbing the lower half in her free hand, she let out a battlecry of her own as she swung up to meet the first's axes, a mammoth weapon carved from what appeared to be a dragon's jawbone. Their blades met, and her adamantite axe blade sliced through the dragonbone as if it were the tenderest of meats, continuing on to the Vrykul's throat. In a moment, his headless corpse lay on the ground, the bearded head landing a few feet of way, an expression of rage forever stuck upon it.

As the second of the Vrykul barreled towards her, she nimbly sidestepped the downward arc of his broadsword, her axe slicing off his left hand as he passed by, howling in rage and pain. Turning to face the third, she gasped in pain as a ball of fire hit her square in the chest, causing her to stumble back a pace. Looking for the source of the flame, she saw the third Vrykul preparing to cast the spell again. Shintal's eyes glowed a bright white, electricity arcing across her body as she called upon the power of the elements. With a motion of her axe, she discharged a bolt of lightning just as the Vrykul spellcaster sent his fireball flying towards her.

Time seemed to stand still, as the two globes drew closer and closer to each other. As they collided, the fireball seemed to engulf the bolt of electricity for a moment – until the ball of lightning emerged on the other side of the fireball, which dissipated as the lightning hit home, catching the Vrykul square in the chest. He howled in agony, as his skeleton was briefly illuminated, before crumpling to the ground as the smell of charred flesh permeated the air. Turning back to the Vrykul whose hand she had removed, who was just picking himself up off the ground, she leveled her axe at him. Her voice echoed unnaturally as she spoke.

"Tell your kinsmen of this, of how you were foolish enough to lose your hand and two comrades, by underestimating the might of the Horde. Tell your king that his days are numbered, and that your 'god' is nothing more than a disgraced paladin too cowardly to fight his own battles. Do not forget this day."

The Vrykul snarled angrily, as he got to his feet. "Oh, don't worry, troll, I won't forget this day. I'll recall it every daybreak, from now until the day that I cut off your head and mount it on my pike!" And with that parting shot, he was gone, disappearing into the hills from whence he came.

"Don't worry," Shintal said to Flikt, as she resumed her trek along the trail. "That's the last we'll see of him." How wrong she was.


	5. Assignment of the Accord

It was windy at the summit of Wyrmrest Temple – But then, that was how dragons liked it. Nachtalia couldn't help but consider this unfortunate, as Norraku landed on the terrace adjoining the wall-less "chamber" at the top of the Titanic construction. Dismounting, she looked at her companion, who was noticeably uncomfortable.

"Don't worry," She reassured him, "You can wait for me here." Norraku was visibly relieved, and nodded gratefully. Turning, she strode to the center of the chamber where Alexstrasza, her consort Krasus, and the ambassadors from the Bronze, Green, and Black Flights were waiting.

"Ah, Nachtalia! It's so good to see you again – or is this the first time? I can never remember when I am." Greeted Chromie, ambassador for the Bronzes. Nachtalia had worked for the Bronze Dragonflight on several occasions, most notably when she had rescued one of their agents from the Infinite Dragonflight in Old Strathollme. She smiled slightly, giving Chromie a small nod before approaching Alexstrasza.

The Dragon Queen looked down at Nachtalia, smiling warmly as the elf knelt before her. "Stand, Champion of the Ebon Blade. I'm surprised it took Rhonin so long to send you to me. Rumor has it that you were delayed by the Blues."

Nachtalia nodded, rising to her feet. "The Kirin Tor had a bounty on Eregos that was too good to pass up. Rhonin told me that your message had something to do with Galakrond?"

Alexstrasza sighed, a look of concern flashing across her face. "Galakrond, the progenitor of all Dragonflights, has lain in the northern reaches of the Dragonblight for millennia, his bones at peace in the earth. But despite our best efforts to disrupt them, the Scourge have succeeded at raising those bones. The might of Sindragosa is like that of a gnat compared to what Galakrond is capable of. This abomination must be slain immediately, and Galakrond's bones put to rest before the Lich King has a chance to put this new weapon to use."

Nachtalia felt a chill run up her spine – Galakrond, the most powerful dragon in the history of Azeroth, had been raised by the Scourge? Such a force, in the Lich King's hands, could scour Northrend of anyone daring to oppose his will. This catastrophe had to be averted.

"Where was Galakrond last seen?" she asked the Aspect, "And what is the reward?"

The great dragon eye her balefully. "He was last seen in Sholazar Basin. Apparently Arthas is using the area as a… a testing ground for Galakrond's capabilities." Alexstrasza's voice cracked as she spoke, and Nachtalia knew why. As the Aspect of Life, seeing Northrend's most fertile region ravaged must be painful beyond measure.

"As for your reward," Alexstrasza continued, composing herself, "You will be given the finest armor that our smiths are capable of crafting."

Nachtalia considered this. The reward wasn't fantastic – most of her armor was already better than what the Accord had to offer – But Galakrond had to be slain, and if she didn't do it, who would? Besides, she owed the Accord for all the help that they had given her when she was being hunted by the Scourge in Zul'Drak.

"Alright, Lifebinder, I'll do it. But I need to request one thing." She said, looking up at the Dragon Queen. "If I should fail, and fall in combat… Burn my body."

Alexstrasza nodded. She knew why Nachtalia was making this request; should she die, she didn't want to be recovered by the Scourge and resurrected once more as a thrall to Arthas' will.

Nachtalia bowed to each off the ambassadors in turn, then Krasus, and finally Alexstrasza, before exiting the chamber. The flapping of wings could be heard as Norraku took off, but silence soon returned to the chamber.

Alexstrasza sighed, turning to her consort. "Have I done the right thing, Krasus? I feel that I've sent the elfmaid to her doom. What chance does a creature so small stand against a dragon larger than ten Aspects?"

Krasus nudged her reassuringly. "Don't fret, my Queen. We have five of the Accord flying with her to aid her in the battle, and another ten positioned at the Avalanche to prevent further Scourge involvement. She may be young, but she is wise beyond her years. She will be alright."


	6. The Fall of New Agamand

Shintal sighed wearily, as she passed the guards posted at New Agamand's gate, who waved her through. It was a small outpost, with little more than an inn, an alchemy lab, and facilities for Blight experimentation, but nevertheless it was heavily fortified, and rightly so. With Vrykul settlements to the north and west, cliffs to the east, and a Vrykul burial ground teeming with restless spirits to the south, there was no shortage of foes prepared to raid the outpost.

Giving the Blight pits a wide berth, she made her way to the inn, where she could finally rest and have a drink. Nodding to the innkeeper as she walked in, Shintal made her way to the upper level, procured a cup of honeymint tea, and retired to a chair by the window, falling into the chair with a grunt as Flikt sucked up the tea she had ordered specially for him in a bowl.

She sighed, staring out the window to the North, where the mountain range separating Howling Fjord from the Grizzly Hills loomed, dark and foreboding. Picking up her cup, she sipped her tea slowly, contemplating what lay ahead of her. This whole forsaken continent had to be purged of the Scourge's taint, and the Horde would be at the forefront of that effort, cleansing the land with steel and fire as the shamans and druids healed the land in the assault's wake. It would be a lengthy and arduous process, but who else would do it? The Alliance? Those parasites would simply strip the land, cutting down every tree, draining every stream, and mining every hill. They just weren't in sync with the elements like the Horde was. They saw land, and they said "Ours," not caring for the spirits that inhabited their new claim. She had rather hoped that the Draenei's presence amidst the ranks of the alliance would curb their destructive tendencies, but they seemed too concerned with the Light to pay any attention to the lesser spirits of the land.

Shintal was abruptly jarred out of her thoughts, as an explosion shook the inn. Glancing out the window opposite where she sat, her blood ran cold at what she saw.

A contingent of Scourge were fast approaching the outpost. Abominations, reanimated Vrykul and ghouls, backed by meat wagons, were attacking from the south. As the meatwagons fired again, she could see the bloated, rotting bodies of Horde soldiers flying into the town, exploding in clouds of disease. The Forsaken that manned the outpost were working desperately as she emerged from the inn, Flikt perched on her shoulder. One of the apothecaries, missing his left arm, staggered over to her, as the sounds of the undead grew louder.

"They're coming… They're coming for this!" He wheezed, revealing a vial of green fluid in his remaining hand. "They're after… The Blight…" He gasped in pain, as the outpost's gates began to shake, the first abominations of the assault beating on them.

"Please…" He said, thrusting the vial into her hand, "Please… Get this sample… to Venomspite… They'll know what to do with it…" He let out a moan of agony, as a piece of wood appeared to grow from his abdomen. As he collapsed, Shintal looked past where he had been standing, and saw that the gate, having been shattered by the abominations, had sent fragments flying – one of which would have impaled her, had the apothecary not been standing where he was.

Ghouls were flooding in, preoccupied for the moment with the defenders at the gate. But as Shintal slipped the vial, looking up caused her eyes to meet the empty eye sockets of a Lich. Her blood froze. The Lich was staring at her intently, and she could feel its malice building, as it realized what she possessed.

"Spirits, aid me!" she cried, as her bones shifted and her skin rippled. Within seconds, where Shintal had just stood was a ghostly wolf, staring back at the Lich. Without a moment's pause, she turned and fled through the northern gate, Flikt following closely behind her. As her paws pounded against the frozen earth, she could hear the howls of ghouls as they set off after her.

The chase was on.


	7. To Fell a Leviathan

Nachtalia eyed the smoke on the horizon with grim apprehension. Flying over lake Wintergrasp, Sholazar Basin was just ahead, and the smoke emanating from it was a bad sign.

Norraku and Nachtalia's escort landed on the ridge of the basin. The sight that greeted them was one of utter destruction. Everything, for as far as the eye could see, was burnt. Except for small rings of safety around the bases of the basin's Titan-powered pillars, there wasn't a scrap of green to be found. In the distance, at the heart of the basin, the smoke was too thick for her to see what had become of Rainspeaker Canopy, home of the Oracles, a tribe of Gorlocs whom Nachtalia had helped to make the dominant force in the basin.

One of the drakes that made up their escort approached her, standing at her side as she looked at the destruction. "You can see why Galakrond needs to be killed as quickly as possible." He said. "Think what he could do if released upon the wider world."

Nachtalia's heart grew cold with anger as she considered the consequences. Silvermoon, reduced to ashes… the Isle of Quel'Danas, the Sunwell destroyed… She could not allow that possibility. Galakrond had to be felled here, before he could wreak further destruction.

"What's the plan?" She asked her escort, surveying the basin for a sign of the dragon. The drake snorted, plumes of flame shooting from its nostrils, then evaporating into the air.

"Plan? There is no plan, Death Knight. Members of the accord are stationed at the Avalanche to prevent further Scourge intervention, but how to put Galakrond back into the earth is up to you. We've been ordered to aid you in whatever plan you can conjure, not to help you conjure it."

Nachtalia sighed irritably. Dragons were always difficult to work with. They had a sense of superiority that made it difficult for them to take orders from mortals. Looking back at the basin, she tried to recall its geography. Out in the center, where the four waterfalls met, was where the smoke was the thickest. That, she suspected, was where Galakrond waited.

"Alright, here's what's going to happen. You and I are going to reconnoiter the center of the basin, where all that smoke is coming from. My instinct is that telling me that that's where he'll be. We fly in, assess his capabilities once we've located him, and then return here to the rest of the escort to formulate a battle plan. Understood?"

The drake nodded, and took off, with Norraku following right behind him. As they flew deeper into the smoke, Nachtalia silently gave thanks that her eyes were shielded from debris by the aura of frost she possessed. A normal creature would have been blinded by the ash in the air.

She could feel Norraku descending, and knew that they must be nearing the inner basin. She could hear the waterfalls, but over their din she heard something else; a hissing, crackling noise that her experience could find no explanation for. The smoke grew thinner, eventually allowing for sight as they landed. Dismounting, she turned to look at the river's heart, and coldly surveyed the scene before her.

The lake bottom had been dug up, to such an extent that the molten earth beneath the ground could be seen. The hissing was emanating from the water of the falls meeting the superheated rock of the crater. Around the sides of the crater were piles of carcasses, dried and smoked by the immense hole in the earth.

Venturing over to the rim of the crater, she peered down into its depths. Meeting her gaze was a tremendous, skeletal creature with the oversized wings characteristic of Azeroth's earliest dragons. As if sensing her presence, the behemeoth looked up, its empty eye sockets glowing maliciously as it let out a roar, spread its wings, and vaulted into the air, coming straight for her.

"It's Galakrond! Quickly, to me!" She yelled, as Norraku and the red drake flew over towards her. Just as they were about to reach her, the earth upon which she was standing was rent apart, as the creature's jaws closed around her and the ledge she stood upon. Flying up into the sky, bone fragments rained down from the behemoth onto the two drakes below, as the Death Knight bashed the inside of the monster's mouth with her mace in an effort to free herself. The beast let out an anguished cry, as her mace emerged from the top of its skull. It plummeted back to earth, landing in the crater with a crash, as Nachtalia emerged from its jaws, standing upon it triumphantly.

"Was that it? That wasn't hard at all!" She cried up at the drakes, exultant with her victory. The red drake slowly shook its head. "No, that wasn't Galakrond, that was one of the Scourge's proto-drakes. THAT is Galakrond."

Nachtalia looked up, at the rim of the basin where the drake was pointing. Her blood went cold, as she saw the massive head of a dragon, bigger on its own than the foe she had just slain had been in total, glaring down at her, flames curling from its immense nostrils.

"Oh."


	8. Glossary

_**Glossary & List of Characters**_

**Characters**

**Nachtalia:** An undead Blood Elf Death Knight, formerly a Paladin fallen in service to the Argent Dawn and resurrected by the Scourge as an agent of the Lich King's dark agenda.

**Shintal:** A Troll Shaman, freshly arrived in Northrend as part of the Horde's force to drive back the Lich King's undead forces.

**Norraku:** Nachtalia's mount and companion netherdrake, was rescued by Nachtalia during her penitential crusade in the Outlands from a group of fel-orc slavers. Member of the Netherwing Dragonflight.

**Flikt:** Shintal's companion, a firefly she came across by luck and adopted during her time spent in the Outlands.

**Alexstrasza:** Queen of the Red Dragonflight, Dragon Aspect of Life, granted mastery and stewardship over Azeroth's myriad forms of life, and head of the Wyrmrest Accord.

**Chromie:** Ambassador to the Wyrmrest Accord of the Bronze Dragonflight, has worked with Nachtalia before to keep the timeline of Azeroth secure from interference at the hands of the Infinite Dragonflight.

**Krasus:** Consort and advisor to Alexstrasza. Member of the Red Dragonflight.

**Rhonin:** Head of the Kirin Tor in Dalaran, notable for having witnessed the events of the War of the Ancients

**Eregos:** Guardian of the Oculus at the Nexus, member of the Blue Dragonflight.

**Galakrond:** Progenitor of all modern dragons, largest dragon to have ever lived.

**Malygos:** Guardian of Magic and Master of the Arcane, the leader of the Blue Dragonflight, entrusted by the titans to guard Azeroth's magic. Has recently come out of a millennia-long period of insanity, and declared war on all mortal spellcasters.

**Sen'Dralai:** Nachtalia's older brother, a prodigy in the magical arts, but slowly descended to the use of fel magic in service to the Legion, before being killed in the Outlands by agents of the Shattered Sun Offensive.

**Arthas Menethil:** Former Prince of Lordaeron, a fallen Paladin who fell under the Lich King's sway, and proceeded to kill his father, betray his kingdom, and become the first Death Knight, before ultimately merging with the Lich King.

**The Lich King:** Ner'zhul, an orc Shaman in large part responsible for the destruction of Draenor and creation of the Outlands, his soul imprisoned in a crystal by the Legion and sent to Azeroth, landing in the frozen continent of Northrend. Responsible for the Plague and creation of the Scourge, he merged with Arthas when the Frozen Throne began to crack, and now the two are known together as the Lich King.

**The Titans:** The creators of Azeroth as it is known today, responsible for the creation of the Dragonflights and their respective Aspects, containment of the Old Gods, creation of Dwarves, Humans, Gnomes and Vrykul, and in general making Azeroth habitable.

**Thrall:** Orcish leader of the New Horde, aims to embrace his people's shamanistic heritage once again in an effort to cleanse the Horde of its demonic influence.

**Sylvanas:** Undead leader of the Forsaken, former High Elf and banshee, now freed from the Lich King's control.

**Varimathras:** Dreadlord forced into submission by Sylvanas, before eventually betraying her in an attempted coup. Has since been slain.

**Old Gods:** Planetary parasites of extraordinary power, malevolent beings whose presence on Azeroth precedes that of the Titans.

**Tirion Fordring:** Greatest Paladin still alive, and leader of the Argent Crusade.

**Illidan:** Former Night Elf, demon-prince of the Outlands, slain within the depths of his own lair by the Horde and Alliance's forces.

**Kil'Jaeden:** Current leader of the Legion and lieutenant to Sargeras.

**Sargeras:** Former leader of the Legion, a fallen Titan whose present whereabouts are unknown.

**Medivh:** Guardian of Tirisfal, one of Azeroth's greatest protectors – was possessed by Sargeras, but evidently managed to free himself. His current whereabouts are unknown.

**Organizations**

**Knights of the Ebon Blade:** Death Knights freed from the Lich King's control, have dedicated their efforts to destroying him and the Scourge.

**Sons of Hodir:** Frost Giants living in the Storm Peaks, currently at war with the servants of the Old Gods there.

**Kirin Tor:** A collective gathering of Azeroth's Mages in the city of Dalaran, headed by Rhonin. Currently is working against Malygos' efforts to destroy all mortal magic users.

**Wyrmrest Accord:** Coalition of the Black, Red, Green and Bronze Dragonflights, aimed at stopping Malygos and the Blue Dragonflight's declared war on all mortal magic users.

**The Scourge:** The Lich King's undead army, abundant throughout Northrend.

**Horde:** The collective alliance between the Darkspear Trolls, Orcs, Tauren, Forsaken, and Blood Elves. The first three are predominantly tribal and shamanistic, while the latter two are more reliant on Arcane magic, and are more "civilized". Despite a troubling past, the Horde's future seems bright.

**Alliance:** The coalition of the Gnomes, Dwarves, Humans, Night Elves and Draenei. More money-oriented than the knowledge/spirituality based Horde, they are in a period of declining influence in the world.

**Argent Dawn:** A group of Paladins stationed in the Plaguelands, with the intent of containing and eradicating the Scourge in that region. Have since merged with the Order of the Silver Hand to become the Argent Crusade, and have moved their operations to Northrend.

**Red Dragonflight:** Dragonflight entrusted by the Titans with the protection of all life on Azeroth.

**Blue Dragonflight:** Dragonflight entrusted by the Titans with the oversight of Azeroth's magic users.

**Green Dragonflight:** Dragonflight entrusted by the Titans with the oversight of the Emerald Dream.

**Black Dragonflight:** Dragonflight entrusted by the Titans with the well-being of the deep places of the world – The Flight's leader, Neltharion, fell from grace during the events surrounding the Sundering, and now known as Deathwing, he has vanished from view. The flight is now largely malevolent, and is speculated to be working with the Wyrmrest Accord with a great deal of reluctance.

**Bronze Dragonflight**: Dragonflight entrusted by the Titans with the oversight of the timeline. Their most persistent foe is the Infinite Dragonflight.

**Netherwing Dragonflight:** A Dragonflight created through the exposure of Black Dragonflight eggs to the fel energies of Outland, this Flight was largely enslaved to the Dragonmaw Orcs of Shadowmoon Valley before being freed by agents of the Horde and Alliance working to undermine the Dragonmaw Clan.

**Infinite Dragonflight:** A mysterious Dragonflight, working to "revise" the timeline of Azeroth. These dragons take up most of the Bronze Dragonflight's energy.

**Shattered Sun Offensive:** A coalition of the Scryers and Aldor of Shattrath, aimed at preventing the Legion from gaining control of the energies of the Sunwell.

**Argent Crusade:** Coalition of agents from the Order of the Silver Hand and Argent Dawn, this organization aims to wipe out the Scourge and kill the Lich King once and for all.

**Order of the Silver Hand:** Paladins of the kingdom of Lordaeron, disbanded by Arthas when they refused to purge Stratholme of its residents infected with the Plague.

**The Legion:** The demons of the universe, under the control of Kil'Jaeden, they aim to destroy whatever they can, promoting chaos and destruction.

**Drakkari:** The trolls native to Northrend, live primarily in Zul'Drak.

**The Oracles:** A tribe of Gorlocs living in Sholazar Basin.

**The Forsaken:** Undead freed from the Lich King's control with the cracking of the Frozen Throne.

**Dragonmaw Clan:** A clan of Orcs in Shadowmoon Valley, acting as agents of Illidan. Primary enslavers of the Netherwing Dragonflight.

**Royal Apothecary Society:** Faction of the Forsaken working to create a counter-plague to wipe out the Scourge.

**Scryers:** Group of Blood Elves in Outland, working to counter the Legion.

**Aldor:** Group of Draenei in Outland, working to counter Illidan.

**Locations**

**Karazhan:** Medivh's tower and residence during his time as the Guardian of Tirisfal.

**The Sunwell:** A fount of magic of immense potency. The Legion attempted to convert it into a portal to Azeroth, but was foiled by Azeroth's greatest heroes.

**Zul'Drak:** Home of the Drakkari trolls, an immense ziggurat on the eastern side of Northrend.

**Acherus:** The necropolis of the renegade Knights of the Ebon Blade, formerly a Scourge stronghold floating above the eastern Plaguelands.

**Light's Hope Chapel:** Headquarters of the Argent Dawn, located in the eastern Plaguelands.

**New Agamand:** A Forsaken outpost in Howling Fjord, dedicated to Blight development.

**Howling Fjord:** The southeasternmost part of Northrend, home to the Vrykul.

**Venomspite:** A Forsaken outpost in eastern Dragonblight.

**The Oculus:** The group of rings floating above the Nexus.

**The Nexus:** A locus of immense magical power created by the Blue Dragonflight in an effort to control all of Azeroth's magic. Dangerously unstable.

**Sholazar Basin:** A fertile valley in western Northrend, populated by the creations of the Titans.

**Draenor:** Homeworld of the Orcs, destroyed by the Legion.

**The Outlands:** The remains of Draenor after its destruction.

**Shadowmoon Valley:** A desolate region in southeastern Draenor, full of flame and demons. Home to Illidan, the Dragonmaw Orcs, and most of the Netherwing Dragonflight.

**Silvermoon City:** Home of the Blood Elves.

**The Undercity:** The remains of the city of Lordaeron – the Forsaken dwell in the sewers beneath the city, known as the Undercity.

**Icecrown:** A glacier in northern Northrend, and landing place of the Frozen Throne.

**Lake Wintergrasp:** A contested zone in central Northrend, housing an ancient Titan vault.

**Orgrimmar:** City of the Orcs in the desert of Durotar.

**Violet Hold:** A prison for especially dangerous prisoners of the Kirin Tor in Dalaran.

**Northrend:** The northernmost continent of Azeroth.

**Lordaeron:** One of the human kingdoms of Azeroth, destroyed by the Scourge after Arthas killed its king, his father.

**The Dark Portal:** Portal through which the orcs entered Azeroth.

**The Plaguelands:** Lordaeron, post-Scourge Invasion.

**The Emerald Dream:** The spirit-realm of Azeroth.

**Stratholme:** A city in Lordaeron, now a stronghold of the Scourge in the eastern Plaguelands.

**Dragonblight:** The place where dragons go to die, a snowy, barren expanse in southern Northrend.

**Shattrath:** A ruined city in the center of the Outlands, populated now by refugees and those opposing the Legion in the Outlands.

**Races**

**Fel-Orc:** Orcs infused with demonic power, their skin red due to the source of this demonic power – a demon-lord's blood.

**High Elf:** Former Night Elves, focusing more on arcane magic than nature-based varieties.

**Blood Elf:** Former High Elves, dependant on arcane and fel energies to sate their magic addiction.

**Troll:** Azeroth's indigenous, and possibly oldest, species. They come in various shades of blue and green, and possess tusks.

**Draenei:** Immigrants to pre-destruction Draenor, fled to Azeroth once the Legion began to make its presence felt there. They appear to be blue, hairless satyrs, with the males having tentacles in place of beards.

**Night Elf:** Descendants of the trolls, and practitioners of druidic magic, their skin is a deep purple.

**Ghoul:** A form of undead.

**Abomination:** Gigantic undead behemoths stitched together from the bodies of the Scourge's victims.

**Lich:** An advanced form of necromancer, composed of bone and chain. These are often the lieutenants and generals of the Scourge.

**Felblood:** Blood Elves glutted on fel-magic, they begin to sprout horns and grow demonic wings. Their skin is often cracked, the fel energy coursing through their bodies visible from beneath.

**Gorloc:** A sentient type of frog-like amphibians.

**Vrykul:** A humanlike race from Northrend, they are much stronger, larger, and tougher than humans. They worship the Lich King as a "Death God."

**Classes**

**Death Knight:** Foes of the Scourge raised in undeath, these dark knights have mastery over the forces of death, frost and blood. They are characterized by glowing blue eyes and rotting skin.

**Paladin:** Champions of the light, they use maces and swords to bring the light's justice upon the undead and demonic.

**Shaman**: Practitioners of elemental magic, they often focus on either healing, using the elements to blast their enemies from afar, or melee-based elemental combat.

**Warlock:** These spellcasters use fel energy to control demons and sear their enemies.

**Mage:** Masters of arcane magic, they use both fire and ice to destroy their foes.

**Miscellaneous**

**Everfrost:** A type of rare ice that never melts.

**Plague:** A magical disease that converts its victims into members of the Scourge.

**Blight:** The Royal Apothecary Society's anti-plague, designed to rot the Scourge's soldiers.

**The Light:** A benevolent, caring force of divine magic.

**The Frozen Throne:** The crystal containing Ner'zhul's spirit, it was thrown from Draenor to Azeroth by Kil'Jaeden.


End file.
